


So You Say

by Blownwish



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One day I will leave you. And you will resent me for it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	So You Say

Sherlock turned the butane down. The human eye was delicate. He did not want to roast this specimen. Yet. 

Watson was probably going to come home for lunch. He had not packed one. Nor had he eaten breakfast. He had not been to work for several days two weeks prior, which meant his paycheck was light. Sherlock ranked the likelihood at sixty three percent.

"So, what's for lunch?" 

And there he was. Sherlock blasted the eye for two seconds. The mucus dried but its integrity remained. "The cold cuts you bought yesterday. Which were on sale because the factory had three inspection failures. Don't worry: human hair won't kill you, nor will the rat excrement that second inspector found." He looked up. "And Mrs Hudson is out. But you knew that."

"Lovely." Watson frowned. "Did it ever occur to you that this is a kitchen, not a laboratory?"

"Yes." Sherlock smiled. "The cold cuts are behind the jar." 

"Of what?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"Oh. Wonderful." Watson went to the refrigerator and saw said wonderful jar, full of eyes. Blue, brown, lots of brown, and one albino red. Quickly, he took his ham and shut the door. "Where is the mayonnaise?"

"I needed it." 

"For what?" Watson looked around, frustrated. The counter space, what little they had, was cluttered with beakers, a toolbox, and a bag of _taffy_? That last item got popped on the kitchen table, which had never functioned as an actual place to eat and needed to be called something else. "Nevermind." 

"Mayonaise has a specific protein chain which reacts-"

"Lunch." Watson kept his back turned. Found the bread (unmolested!) in the cupboard, and busied himself. "I'll be off in a minute."

"Once you find out what I've been doing."

He stopped. "Do we have a case?"

"Sadly, no." He switched the butane on. "You deliberately forgot lunch in order to leave work. It is flu season, which means it is even more boring than usual. You saw six patients today, all of whom were sent home with pat instructions mommy would have given them. The fourth one vomited in your office."

Watson put the sand which on a plate. "How-"

"He didn't miss you. There's a spot on your shoe."

He looked down. "And you had to say this right before I ate."

"It was the fourth. The spot dried off. Probably saw that one ninety minutes ago. Each patient would take an average of twenty minutes. You usually stop at -"

"Stop." Watson took a deep breath. "I just want to eat a sand which and go back to work."

"And, again, to check in on me."

"No point denying, I suppose." He put the ham back, somehow, and the bread, then went to the living room. Sat. And ate. 

Finally. 

"So, how am I?" Sherlock was just standing there. Waiting for the answer. 

Watson shrugged. "Fine."

"You were worried because I had not texted. You wondered if I was off on a case without you." Sherlock smiled. 

Watson stopped eating. 

"One day I will do precisely that." He stopped smiling. "And you will resent me for it."

"Maybe."

"No, not maybe. Probably."

"I need to go." Watson put the plate on top of the shoe box filled with bullet shells. Stood up. Got as far as the door. 

And stopped. "If you exclude me I will try to understand."

Sherlock stared at Watson's untouched cane, which was propped between the sofa and doorway. "So you say."

Watson left promptly. Sherlock watched him walk down the street and counted: Watson had stumbled three times.


End file.
